


Just Let me, Ok?

by mynameisnotmac



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Affection, Caring Dean, Caring Dean Winchester, Coughing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fever, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Season/Series 08, Sick Sam, Sick Sam Winchester, Sickfic, Trials, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:52:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3785596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnotmac/pseuds/mynameisnotmac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the trials are very hard on Sam which is in turn very hard on Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [let-it-go-brother](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=let-it-go-brother).



> This one's for Let-it-go-brother because she left the most wonderful comment and pushed me out of my length comfort zone. I know it's not 8 or 10k, but it's the longest thing i've ever written and you have to start somewhere, right? Hope you like it :) Lots of cluddly angst.

Dean stopped in the door way of one of the empty bedrooms and grunted. The bloody angel he was supporting was getting heavy.

“Do you need me to clean anything up for you?” Cas shook his head and stumbled into the room Dean‘s eyebrows knit together. “You sure?” He got nod from Cas as he stood up straighter.

“I’ll be fine.” He muttered hoarsely. “It’ll heal soon, go worry about Sam.”

Normally, Dean would have pressed the matter, but he was more than slightly irritated at Cas and besides, he really was worried about Sam. The kid may have said he was starting to feel better, but he spent the ride home curled up against the window and coughing into his shoulder. It was all Dean could do not to put his arm around his shoulders and hold him until he either stopped coughing or fell asleep, both being preferable. But he knew that Sam wouldn’t react well to that. Sam didn’t react well to any of his affection recently. He sighed, wishing he could do something. He hated feeling so helpless, especially when his brother was involved.

Sam was still sitting in car when Dean came back into the garage. He had his legs sticking out of the open door and his head between them. He frowned; he would have thought that Sam had gone in by now.

“Sammy?” Dean could hear coughing; it sounded painful. He tried again. “You okay there?” Still no response. Crouching down in front of him, he tried to put a hand on Sam’s back, but it got shrugged off. He tried not to be too hurt as he stood up and stepped back. Once Sam finished hacking up his lungs, he made an attempt to stand, but stumbled over his feet.

“Easy there Sam.” Dean said, catching his brother by the elbow. Sam steadied himself a bit before swatting Dean’s hand away.

“’M fine.” He mumbled, supporting himself on the car roof. “Really, I’m okay, just a little dizzy.”

“Sure kid. Whatever you say.” Dean was starting to get a little irritated; he didn’t like being lied to, but he didn’t feel like starting an argument - not yet anyways - so he busied himself with grabbing the bags from the back. He noticed Sam starting a little bit when he slammed the trunk. “You about ready to go?” he asked. Sam nodded and pushed off the car, only swaying a little bit. Dean followed behind, ready to catch his brother should the need arise.

They managed to make it into the map room before Sam doubled over again. Dean dropped the bags and was at Sam’s side so fast even he was surprised. He stood helpless, trying to figure out how he could help without getting brushed off. Thinking quickly, he pulled out a chair and did his best to guide Sam into it. To his surprise, he wasn’t met with resistance. The hand between the shoulder blades however, was.

“Dean, stop hovering.” The coughing had finally subsided 

“It‘s not hovering if you‘re dying” Dean muttered under his breath. Sam was rising from the chair. Dean grabbed his elbow.

“Sammy, where the hell are you going?” 

“To the archives. There‘s got to be something on curing a demon in this mass of paper, and I figure that’s the place to start.” 

“Sam, we can worry about that tomorrow, right now you need to sit down.”

“Dean, we should get started now, I just want this over with.” Sam shot him a tired look. Dean returned it with a sympathetic, if slightly exasperated, one.

“I know, I want that too, believe me, nothing would make me happier, but right now you can barely stand up. You’re not-”

“Dean I’ll be fine.” Dean was sick of hearing that.

“No, you’re not fine.” 

“I will be.” As Sam turned to go he bumped into the edge of the table and almost sent himself sprawling. That was the last straw for Dean.

“Damn it Sammy! Unless you are on your way to bed you will sit your ass back in that chair NOW.” 

Both he and Sam started at how loud that last word was. Dean hadn’t meant to shout, but it had the effect he wanted. Sam’s eyes widened and he sat back down on the edge of the chair. He stared up at Dean, confused and slightly annoyed.

“Sorry, I, I didn’t mean to shout.” Dean said, pulling out another chair and sitting down to face Sam. “It’s just, I’m frustrated. I’m trying to help you and you won’t let me.” Sam’s features softened. It made the dark circles under his eyes more prominent.

“Dean, you can’t help me.” He said quietly. Dean ground his teeth.

“I know that damn it! Don’t you see that? It’s eating me up inside! My whole life has been looking after you, that’s my job and right now, I can’t do my job. I feel so useless! I’m trying to do what I can, what I know how to do. But you won’t let me!” There was a lump in Dean‘s throat, and he could see tears in Sam‘s eyes. Sam reached over and grabbed the cuff of his jacket, giving a sad smile as he did so.

“I know you’re just trying to watch out for me, and I appreciate it, I do, and normally, I would let you, but this isn’t like how it usually is. I’m not going to get better by resting.”

“But you might feel a little better! Sam, these trials are hard enough with out you burning the candle at both ends. This sucks for you, I can see it. I just want to make it easier. It hurts me to see you like this. You’re my little brother, I’m supposed to take care of you, it’s been drilled into my mind since I was four years old. I know this isn’t some ordinary flu, and that making soup isn’t going to fix things, but it’s what I know how to do, so just, just let me, ok? Just, just for a little bit, just for a day.”

A silence fell between the two. Dean could hear his own breath in his ears. He waited for Sam to say something, but surprisingly, he didn’t; he just slipped out of the chair so he was kneeling and then pulled at Dean’s sleeve until he was doing the same in front of him. Dean gave him a confused look. Sam just wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in his shoulder. Dean caught on after a second and held him, rubbing his back and holding his head, not sure when he would get the chance to again. He could feel Sam relax against him.

“Dean?” Sam asked after awhile

“What is it Sammy?”

“I’m exhausted.” Dean smiled a little.

“Really? I never would have guessed.”

“Shut up.” That was all Sam could get out before he started coughing again. He moved to bury his face in Dean’s chest until it stopped. He looked up at Dean with an apology in his eyes. “I think I got blood on your jacket.” Dean just pulled him back towards him. 

“It’ll wash out.” Was all he said. He could feel Sam trying to make himself smaller so he fit better into Dean’s embrace. It used to work better before Sam was a giant.

“Dee?” Sam’s voice was small.

“Hmmm?”

“Fix me.” The words were barely above a whisper, but Dean heard them, loud and clear.

“That’s my job kid.” He said, pulling him as close as possible. Sam gave a noise of contentment that made him laugh softly. “Does that mean I win?” Sam sighed and gave a small cough, sounding defeat.

“Yeah, you win. You always do.”

“That’s not true, there was the time you were twelve and I let you beat me at pool.” 

“mmmm.” Rather than making another remark, Sam just moved his head into the side of Dean’s neck. Dean could feel his fever heat as he impulsively pressed his lips into Sam’s forehead.

“Come on Samsquatch,” He said, pulling Sam up and slinging his arm around his shoulders. “Time for bed.”


	2. Sam

Sam let Dean all but drag him down the hallway to his room. He was so tired; now that he had admitted it to both Dean and himself, he could barely keep his eyes open. He was thinking about how nice his bed would feel when he remembered something.

“Dean,” He said, stopping. “What about Cas?”

“He’s fine.” Dean assured him pointing to the door a few down from his own. “He’s right in there, doing angel-y healing things.”

“But-”

“Don’t worry about it Sam, he’ll be fine. Let’s just take care of you now, ok?”

Giving in, Sam allowed himself to be guided into his bedroom and be sat down on the bed. As he closed his eyes, he felt cool hands run over his forehead and smooth back his hair. It felt good, but before he knew it, the hands were gone.

“I’ll be right back Sammy, just going to get a few things.”

The minute Dean left Sam wanted him back. Not that he would ever admit it, but he needed his big brother, no matter how much he protested. After waiting what was either three seconds or eternity, Sam got up to find Dean. He instantly regretted it, as his head made the room feel like the tilt-a-whirl he once threw up on. Groaning quietly, he lay down and curled up on the edge of the bed, wishing Dean would hurry.

“Sammy? Sammy?” He could feel someone gently shaking him. He must have fallen asleep. Opening his eyes a crack, he saw the blurry outline of his brother.

“Dee?” One of the corners of Dean’s mouth turned up.

“Hey kid, I know you’re tired, but I just need to get a feel for what I’m dealing with, ok?” Sam nodded. “Alright, can you sit up for me?” 

He managed to get himself mostly upright. Dean sat down beside him, the old bedsprings creaking and shifting under the new weight. Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed the thermometer sitting amongst the few other supplies he must’ve brought back. He stuck it in Sam’s mouth and put his arm around him as he waited for the beep. Sam let his eyes drift shut and leaned his head against his brother, suddenly feeling five years old again. Dean patted his shoulder.

“You really feel like shit, don’t you?” Sam just nodded. Dean took the thermometer from him when it beeped and gave a low whistle. “wow,” he muttered under his breath. “There’s a number you don’t see everyday.” 

Sam pressed himself closer to his brother trying to absorb the some of his heat. He was so cold and Dean was like a radiator - he always did run a little warmer than normal. Maybe letting Dean take care of him wasn’t so bad, not if he warmed him up… and maybe Sam kind of like liked being cared for. It was nice, not that he’d ever admit it outright. 

Dean must have noticed him shaking, because he got up for a minute and then Sam felt a blanket being wrapped around him, followed by a pair of hands rubbing up and down his arms.

“Is that a little better?” Dean asked. 

“Y-yeah.” It was hard to answer with his teeth chattering. 

Dean tugged the blanket tighter around Sam’s shoulders and then pulled him close so that both arms were around him. Sam felt his shaking muscles relax a little bit. 

“So what else is wrong Sammy? You know, besides the fever from hell and the fact that your lungs don’t want to stay in your chest.” 

Sam was quiet as he tucked his head under Dean’s chin. When he was younger, that’s where he always went when he was sick or scared: Under Dean’s chin. Monsters didn’t seem so scary there. It had been years since he’d last done it, but it still worked. Monsters were not allowed under here. Sam smiled pitifully to himself at the thought. 

“Sammy?” Dean said again. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s hurting.” Sam groaned a little before answering.

“My head hurts too, and I feel kind of nauseous I guess.”

“Do you feel like you’re gonna throw up?” Sam shrugged.  
“Nothing really to throw up. Haven’t been hungry. The thought of food makes me wanna hurl.”

“So you haven’t eaten anything for the last little bit?” Sam shook his head. “Have you thrown up?” A pause, then a head nod. “Awww Sam.” There were fingers running through his hair now. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He coughed instead of answering. “Well, do you think you can handle some water?” Another nod. But when Dean got up to leave, Sam grabbed the back of his shirt, the blanket slipping off his shoulders as he did so.

“Don’t go.” Dean laughed a little as he tucked the blanket around his little brother again.

“I’ll be back in thirty seconds, okay? I’m just filling up your cup at the sink.”

True to his word, Dean was back in under a minute and was pressing a glass to Sam’s lips. 

“Small sips.” He reminded him. Sam obediently swallowed the water, his teeth knocking against the glass as he did so. To be honest, he was a little worried about the water staying down, but he didn’t feel like fighting with Dean. He was exhausted. Even drinking was exerting. He was glad when Dean pulled the glass away.

“’m tired Dee.” He mumbled. Dean smoothed back his hair again.

“Alright, bed time. Let’s get you out of these layers.” 

Dean helped shake the blanket off and peeled back the layers of flannel until there was just a t-shirt. He then rummaged through some drawers until he found a pair of sweats and tossed them at Sam. By the time they were on, Sam could barely keep his eyes open. He curled up on his side and let Dean cover him with blankets. He could feel something cool pressed against his forehead.

“Cold compress.” Dean said, answering his question. “I’ve put the trash can by your head, in case the water decides to make a comeback. Do you want a heat pack for your stomach?”

“No, ‘m okay for now.”

“Do you need anything else?” A minute of silence lapsed.

“Would you stay?”

“You want me to stay?” Sam could hear the surprise in Dean’s voice. He nodded.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore. You can say no, it’s just-”

“Push over Samsquatch.” Sam smiled and made room for Dean as he pulled back the covers and made himself comfortable. Sam snuggled up to him and found his old place on Dean’s chest. It felt good and familiar there, like the backseat of the Impala; a place he used to know so well but never visited there anymore. 

As he was falling asleep he realized that although he still felt like utter crap, he did feel the tiniest bit better.


	3. Dean

It was around two am when Dean felt a hand squeezing his wrist. He looked over to find Sam staring up at him.

“Dee?” He whispered thickly. “Where’s that trashcan?”

For the second time that night, Dean surprised himself with how fast he moved. He had Sam sitting up and the trashcan in his lap before either of them could blink. There was a moment of stillness. He heard Sam swallow before his breathing picked up, and then he was vomiting. Sam had been right; there wasn’t much to throw up. Just the water. Dean bit his lip as he tried to remember the last time he saw Sam eat. His chest tightened when he couldn’t recall anything in the past few days. He’d have to fix that later.

For now, Dean just pushed back Sam’s hair and put an arm around his shaking shoulders so he wouldn’t fall over. He felt awful when he thought about how long Sam could’ve been like this. There was no more water now, and Dean held his brother tighter as he dry heaved over the can. 

Finally, they slowed, before coming to a stop all together. Dean put the trashcan on the floor and let Sam all but melt into him. He was still shaking, so Dean started running his hand back and forth over his side in an attempt to help him relax. Sam turned to burry his face in Dean’s chest. It wasn’t until he heard a whimper that he realized that Sam was shaking because he was crying. He pulled back to look at his brother.

“Sammy what is it?” He asked gently, smoothing the hair back from Sam’s face. He noticed that his fever was awfully high again. “What’s wrong?” Sam shook his head and looked down.

“I’m just so tired.” Dean nodded.

“Come on then, let’s go back to bed, ok?”

Sam didn’t argue as Dean pushed him back down against the pillows, he just moved closer and lay his head on Dean’s chest again as he tried to stop crying. Dean massaged his neck, trying to calm him down.

“I hate this Dee.” The words were muffled by Dean’s t-shirt and the blanket he was tucking around the both of them.

“I know kid, it sucks doesn’t it?” Sam nodded.

“Sometimes I wish I could stop. I can’t, I have to save everybody, but sometimes I wish I could. Does that make me a bad person?” Dean squeezed him tight..

“No Sammy, it makes you human.” Sam made a noise of discontentment.

“I don’t want to be human anymore. I wanna be like, Batman or something’” 

“Batman is human.” Sam gave him a half-hearted kick.

“Fine then, Green Arrow.”

“Also human.”

“Whatever, you know what I mean.” Dean pressed his lips into Sam‘s hair.

“yeah, I do. I’m sorry Sammy, if I could fix things, I would. But I’ll be here with you ok? You don’t have to do this alone.” He felt Sam nod.

“I know.”

“Now get some sleep, ok?”

“Ok.” There was a long stretch of silence, and Dean thought that Sam had fallen asleep until he heard a small voice. “Dean?”

“What is it Sam?”

“I feel a little better now.” Dean smiled

“Go to sleep kid.” There was quiet for a few more minutes.

“Dee?”

“Sammy?”

“Thank you.”


End file.
